Birthday Traditions
by draumur i dos
Summary: Albus birthday has the unfortunate tradition of always going wrong. Here are four instances in which something went horribly wrong and one which made up for it all. Warnings: Slash, fluff, some bad language, mentions of violence and kissing.


A/N: This little one-shot was written as a birthday present for my friend´s 18th birthday (she happens to frequent this site to and her penname is trausti. Check her out). She doesn´t celebrate it, but I wrote this for her anyway because I´m kind of obnoxious like that. This is un-betaed and written in a hurry so please let me know if you catch any mistakes.

Seventeen is still in the works, if anyone would like to know, and the next chapter should be up… before summer´s over at least. I can´t promise more than that. (Also, this format is totally on loan from the Star Trek fandom).

**4 times Albus' birthday was ruined and 1 time that made up for it all**

1

This one Albus would always blame on James, no matter how much his older brother protested it had totally been an accident and how the hell could he have known that Albus would have an allergic reaction to Canary Creams anyway?

So yeah. Because of his brother's short-sightedness Albus Severus Potter had spent his seventh birthday in the hospital getting his stomach pumped. The clown sent to entertain him didn't help matters much either. As it turned out, Albus had a hidden paralyzing fear of those grinning bastards and had been sure it was there to devour his soul. The less said about that particular incident the better, but lets just say Albus wasn't allowed near any sharp objects for a good while after.

It took the younger Potter boy two weeks just to speak to his brother again. Another three to actually smile at him and a good month on top of that to forgive him.

And come James's birthday, Albus got his revenge at last. It earned him two weeks of grounding, but it was completely worth it, if just to see the look on James's face when he woke up to find his pillow replaced by something livelier and with far more limbs.

But then, Albus was pretty diabolical for a seven year old.

2

Albus' eleventh had been better, but only slightly. The whole summer was kind of fuzzy in his memory; most of it was like a mess of excitement and nervous anticipation because come September he'd finally be going off to Hogwarts. His birthday was no different, but there was one particular incident that stuck out.

His first time flying.

Albus had always been firm in his belief that if man was meant to fly, he would have wings. He was kind of an oddity that way; he didn't know anyone else his age that was still afraid of flying. So on the morning of his eleventh birthday, Harry handed him a broom and took him outside, determined to rid his son of this fear before he'd start flying lessons in the autumn.

("It'll be fun, trust me. And no, tying your foot to the table won't change my mind. You've got to learn this sometime.")

It took Albus about ten minutes to work up the courage to actually leave the ground. Once he did he spent a good while hovering a few inches in the air, gripping the broom so tightly his knuckles turned white and twitching nervously every time the broom moved in the slightest.

After a lot of gentle encouraging from Harry ("Just keep your balance. You're doing fine.") and some cheering on from James and Lily, Albus finally loosened his grip and moved slightly higher. This wasn't as hard as he had expected. In fact, it was almost... fun.

And it was at that precise moment that everything went to hell. One second Albus was floating just above the ground and the next he was holding on to his dear life as the broom sped off into the air.

In a desperate attempt to gain some control Albus gripped the broom as tightly as he could and pushed down. That only resulted in the broom spinning around and now he was hanging upside down and still going higher. Then he heard distinct shouts in the distance:

"I'll get him down!"

"James, NO!"

And suddenly the broom was on fire. In shock Albus let go, forgetting that he was at least four hundred feet in the air.

For a few moments everything seemed still and then he was falling, falling, falling. Albus' short life flashed before his eyes and he closed his eyes, preparing for impact.

When asked later, Albus would never admit to passing out. He had just... gone to sleep. Freefalling. With his pants on fire.

Albus didn't really remember the rest of that day and maybe that was just as well. Some things are better left forgotten.

3

His thirteenth birthday and the following night were mostly spent at the hospital. Again.

It wasn't him that time though.

Albus wasn't very clear on what had happened, he only remembered his mother pulling him out of bed in the middle of the night and bringing him, James and Lily to St Mungo's. She didn't explain much, or anything, really, but she didn't need to. The look on her face was enough.

They arrived at the hospital to find Ron already there. He told Ginny what had happened and Albus listened dumbstruck. A plot for revenge. A bomb. _Dad._

The following hours were spent in the waiting room. James paced. Lily watched him. Hermione brought food and drinks, Ron brought news. And Ginny... she stared at the wall, face ashen and eyes dull. Albus had never seen her so out of control and that scared him almost more than anything.

It was the most difficult day of Albus' life. They got very little information of what was going on, and even then it wasn't anything good. At one point a healer offered them to come in and say goodbye, just in case. Ginny refused vehemently and told the good man he could shove it, Harry was going to live thank you very much. He'd come back from the dead before and he could do it again.

After twenty-five gruelling hours they were let in. It was over, Harry was stable, awake and on the road to recovery.

The man in the hospital bed looked very little like Albus' father. He was pale and sickly, covered in bruises and bandages, and his left arm was all but gone. But it didn't matter because he was alive and he was smiling and Albus didn't think he'd ever been so happy.

4

The following year wasn't actually all that bad, especially in comparison, but at the time Albus had felt very much like his world had just ended.

Most of the day had been pretty great. There was delicious cake, dinner with the whole family (including, of course, Scorpius) and presents. Lots and lots of presents.

It was around midnight that Albus noticed Scorpius was no longer with them. So naturally, he went looking. It wasn't like he could spend the rest of the evening with Lily or, god forbid, James and Fred.

In retrospect he probably should have realized what was going on when he noticed Rose was missing as well. But then he had always been pretty oblivious.

At any rate he was completely unprepared for what he found when he opened his bedroom door.

Rose and Scorpius. Snogging. On _his bed._

They didn't seem to notice him, so Albus stepped back out and quietly closed the doors. Then he went downstairs and rejoined the party, desperately trying not to think about what he had just seen or why it made him feel like someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out.

+1 (As told by Albus)

By the time I turned sixteen I had all but given up on hope for a good birthday. I knew better. I'd just spend the entire day in my room, wait for it to pass quietly and maybe celebrate tomorrow. Nothing would change my mind. Not mom, not dad, not Lily and most definitely not-

"Scorpius."

I don't know why I was surprised. Scorpius had never missed my birthday once since we became friends, no matter how sucky they inevitably turned out to be.

"Al," was the amused greeting. And I suppose I looked kind of pathetically funny, holed up in my covers like a hibernating bear. A very scrawny hibernating bear.

"Leave me alone," I grumbled. I really didn't have the patience for his shit. Not today.

"Are you going to stay in bed all day?" Scorpius asked.

"Yes."

I ducked my head back under the covers, as if to tell him 'this conversation is over'. Scorpius would get the message. And then he'd probably go on and ignore it.

Sure enough I felt him pulling at my covers.

"I said leave me al- what are you doing?!"

Instead of trying to pull me out of bed, Scorpius had obviously decided that the best method would be to climb in next to me barefooted and shirtless. A strange strategy. I told him as much.

"It's not a strategy you idiot," Scorpius said. "I'm joining you."

"Wha?"

"If you're going to stay in bed all day, you might as well have some company."

Oh well, that explained everything. What?

Scorpius sighed in frustration, probably at the confused expression on my face.

"It's your birthday," he stated. "And you shouldn't spend it alone."

"And that's why you're crawling into my bed half naked and cuddling me?"

"Glad we're on the same page."

"You're strange."

"And you're an idiot. Are we done with the obvious statements?"

And so I spent my sixteenth birthday in bed, being cuddled by my best friend. And it was my best birthday ever, even though we didn't end up snogging.

Except that we totally did. Go me!


End file.
